On First Drafts

A while ago, I was at my youth group, and the youth leader asked a question. I was curled on the couch, my Bible open on my lap, my Romans study book half-shut and falling between the couch cushions. I'd been listening, I really had, but I was zoned out now. I was gazing at the wall, my thoughts wandering far off topic.

He finished the question. The comfortable living room went quiet. We could hear the dog's nails click-clacking softly on the hardwood kitchen floor. The silence brought me back to Earth.

"C'mon, Zoe," the youth leader said after a pause where everyone thought someone else would say something. "I know you've got something."

I had nothing at first.

Step One: Have Nothing.

I asked him to repeat the question. He did. I made sure to listen this time. Then I looked down at the verse, read it to myself again, and started talking.

I went on. And on. And on.

Step Two: Ramble.

I tend to end my youth group answers with, "Does that make any sense?"

My youth leader paused. "Not... really."

The embarrassment hit me then. I realized how long I'd gone on, and that everyone was looking at me. I realized how many disconnected things I'd said. I looked at him, making some sort of sheepish face I don't remember.

He was silent. I realized what his silence meant after a second. I had thought he would go to someone else, but no. He wanted me to try again.

Step Three: Try Again. Do Much, Much Better, Because Now You've Practiced.

I did. I started again. I answered in one concise, clear, comprehensible sentence. The leader nodded. He understood. He agreed.

I'll explain what I mean. Step one... have nothing. What does that mean? Why would you want to have nothing?

Because everyone starts from scratch. That's just how it is. When you start off, you don't know what you're going to write. You have nothing, then you have an idea. You know a few things you're going to write - a beginning, an idea for a scene or two. And then, step two, you have a ramble, connecting the things that you know with faint, wobbly lines to form a distorted image of what you truly want.

That ramble is your first draft.

Then, you take the pen and you go over the wobbly lines. You start over, you try again, you fix your mistakes. It’s shorter. It’s clearer.

The point is, first drafts aren’t ever, ever, ever perfect. They’re nowhere close. The point of a first draft is to get your ideas on paper. Give yourself permission to mess up on it. First drafts aren’t supposed to be good! They’re meant to be bad so you can learn from your mistakes.

To illustrate my point:

I have started this blog post over five times.

I have written about seven hundred words that you are not reading. I have deleted four drafts. And here I am on my fifth.

Before this, I wrote seven hundred words trying to figure out what I even wanted to write about first drafts, because I didn’t know. I had nothing. Then I had an idea, and I went on a ramble. And now I’ve tried again, knowing what I want to say, so here you go. My last draft on first drafts.